Fragrant Is the Thought Of You (Redux)
by Nidoran Duran
Summary: While doing the laundry, Vanilla gets distracted by the smell of Fang's sari, and she can't control what happens next. Rewrite of an old story.


Some days, boredom was inescapable, and Vanille settled reluctantly into her mid-week day of chores, wishing for something to happen but not entirely wanting the peace to be disturbed. It seemed a fair balance; easing into a bit of a rut in her life in exchange for the quiet of everything going right enough to keep her from complaining. A fair trade she supposed, even if the robotic, autopolited manner with which she cleaned the dishes, even her whistling dying down a little before leaving her just going through the motions dragged her down a little. A glum and fairly drab day, with even the sky looking rather dismal, overcast and grey; there seemed little joy or life to be found anywhere.

After putting away the dishes and slipping into the next task of drudgery and cleaning, Vanille headed toward the bedroom to gather up clothes which Fang, in full warrior style, often left scattered around on the floor. Her girlfriend was out for the day running her own errands, leaving Vanille with the short end of the stick, shackled to the house and unable to enjoy the outdoors, for as much as the threatening-to-rain, chilly autumn wind could really be enjoyed by anybody. As dreary as staying home was, at least she was in no danger of getting caught in the rain.

The bedroom window was left open a crack, just to help air the house out a little; even if a bit chilly, by mid-afternoon it had become the pleasant kind of autumn cool that felt nice running through the house, ensuring that at night they would have to throw on a second blanket and snuggle up extra close to one another. At least, that was Vanille's hope; the midweek often left a bit of a lull in their sex lives, and while she did adore spending nights in Fang's strong embrace, it did leave her wanting more quite often, even if they never got around to it.

The laundry basket fell softly onto the side of bed as Vanille leaned down and began tossing her girlfriend's discarded clothes into it. Not that Vanille was one to talk, but Fang was by far the most likely of the two to let any attempt at order slip, her clothes very carelessly tossed all about the room. But it was upon going to pick up one of her saris when her day suddenly felt a jolt of energy. She sighed, holding it up to the light filtering into the room to see if it had even been worn before being thrown away; sometimes Fang was just that messy.

A heavy breeze blew into the room, making the curtains billow wildly, but more noticeable, was how it ran right through Fang's sari, confirming to Vanille that it was indeed worn. But it was more than merely telling her that it was in need of washing; it filled her nostrils with the purest, most distilled essence of her lover's scent. Not pungent or heavy; it was lightly worn, not dragged down by sweat or becoming unbearable. The sort of thing each ragged breath would be after slumping against her lover in the aftermath of intense release, evoking the sensation of warmth that came into with nuzzling into Fang's neck.

Suddenly, there was no wistful lamentation of her boring day; there was nothing on her mind but love. Warmth. Adoration. Arousal. Where she should have thrown it into the basket and headed off to do the laundry, she instead found herself pressing it to her face, taking in a deep breath. It was intoxicating, and the arousal deepened rapidly. Fang dominated her thoughts, her knees growing weak and her eyes closing gently.

Rushes of afternoon desire were rare for Vanille, and yet she found herself wanting nothing else as she took another heavy, greedy whiff of Fang's scent. With Fang nowhere to be found and an increasing need to pleasure herself, quite literally with every breath, that she had little desire to ignore. Hurriedly, she moved the hamper to the floor and wrapped herself in the worn sari, falling down onto the bed with one hand slipping down into her panties and the other holding a stretch of the fabric to her face for another whiff as she writhed within it.

It was easy to imagine Fang, her girlfriend's beauty burned into her mind and incredibly easy to recall. She pictured the gorgeous warrior nude, lying above her, skin glistening in a thin veneer of sweat, hand slid down between the redhead's clenching legs. The stubborn tightness of thighs around her hand wasn't an obstacle for Fang at all, strong and skillful, digits firmly working Vanille over. Her tongue lapped at her collarbone, preparing her flesh with a thin layer of saliva before giving a little nibble to the firm bone and the skin atop it.

The smell of her lover added a new dimension to her fantasies; the biggest problem was that no matter how evocative her imagination was, it never felt nearly .as good as the real thing, never truly had any sensory weight behind it. But the sari smelled like Fang, filled her nostrils with the very essence of the woman she loved with every breath. It deepened her arousal, added something to her masturbation that made it so much more intense. Her fingers rocked steadily into her, growing gradually wetter as arousal washed over her even in the middle of the afternoon. Fang's scent had never done this to her before, but she didn't try to fight or question it, accepting the wonderful surprise she'd found.

Returning home early from her errands, Fang found herself in much the same sort of slump that Vanille spent her day in, and she hoped that a good supper with the woman she loved would help ease her out of it. Slipping silently into the house, she hoped to surprise Vanille with her arrival, maybe to catch her doing housework and give her some company and a reprieve from her own tasks' mundanity. Her footfalls were uncharacteristically silent as she moved, swift and easy across the familiar floor of her own home, peering in through doors in search of her lover.

She hadn't expected to find Vanille lying on all fours, sari wrapped around her upper body, face pressed into the fabric, one hand tending needily to her pussy as it leaked down her wrist and onto the bed beneath, the other grabbing desperately at her breast. The lewd sight before Fang was like nothing she'd ever seen before, Vanille caught in a frantic reverie, going hard and fast in a way she almost never had by herself before. As much as Fang had wanted to spring a surprise on Vanille, she wasn't sure it would be right to interrupt her.

But she didn't have to. With a moan and an embarrassing-but-sweet murmur of, "Please Fang, sit on my face," Vanille rolled onto her back, hips lifting up the bed and urging herself deeper onto her fingers as she imagined Fang doing precisely as she asked, eyes briefly opening for half a second, and in her state she didn't even realize Fang was there until a few seconds later when she gasped, realization hitting her hard. She fell flat onto the bed, cheeks burning intense pink as she stared at her girlfriend. Stumbling her way through, "I can explain," Vanille showed just how many nervous noises and half-words one could put into a sentence when they got creative about it. Being caught masturbating would have been a silly little thing to laugh about, and who wouldn't fantasize about the love of their life, even if vocalizing said fantasies was a bit odd? But the sari was a little harder to explain.

"I usually prefer a 'hello'," Fang said with a smile, standing at the foot of the bed as her girlfriend blushed and squirmed, the embarrassment setting very, very quickly upon her. "But this is quite the greeting." Whimpering, Vanille moved for a blanket to cover herself up, but Fang was quick to lean forward and catch it, tugging it away from her. "And if your offer stands to real me, I would be happy to oblige."

Beyond the silliness of being caught sniffing her sari, there was nothing about the couple, who in their years together had done plenty of things together and between whom sex was normal and natural, that made walking in on Vanille's pre-dinner masturbation odd or a problem at all, leaving her free to voice her desires with a ragged, eager, "Please!" as she looked pleadingly at the strong warrior. She'd been too tightly wound up, her fantasy too real and concrete for her to turn back, and it was better to be with the woman she loved when she went over the edge than to excuse herself to gracelessly do it herself. "Sit in my face, Fang."

Fang was quick to shed her clothes, leaning forward as Vanille sat up, the two sharing a very desperately-needed kiss. While Vanille was much further gone, the sight before Fang was too much not to be dragged down by, her girlfriend driven to heights of need and arousal centered entirely around her scent. She had no idea how Vanille had ended up in such a position, didn't want to ruin the moment by slowing down to ask, instead letting Vanille's passion carry her away. Fingers ran through her dark, incredibly messy hair, the kiss tinged with enough burning intensity for Fang to descend deeper down into lust with her despite the fact the sun was still out.

With nothing left on but her top, Fang's hands finally moved from her own body to Vanille's, holding onto her shoulders as the fingers in her hair tightened, Vanille kissing her like a woman possessed, wild and free in a way she was so rarely needy enough to be. But it was no trouble for her to match the fire, to meet the kiss just as hungrily as she surrendered to the moment with more natural ease, no shame or reticence about letting go.

The kiss broke apart on Fang's terms, the hold on Vanille's shoulders letting her ease the redheaded girl down onto her back with a little more roughness than either of them were used to. Vanille's shoulders would have bounced off the mattress a little from the impact if not for the strong hands keeping her pinned down as Fang quickly slid up her body, pulling herself forward and pressing her weight down onto her lover's face, pussy slick as it settled comfortably against her lips. It was all one rather fluid motion, the dexterous warrior fulfilling her girlfriend's request and getting right to work.

Fang hadn't even threaded her fingers through Vanille's hair when the redhead pushed her face up totally of her own volition. While she'd been pushed to the limit of her patience by the lingering scent of Fang's clothes, it paled in comparison to the heavy smell of her lover's moist folds, of arousal and her. A more substantive and undeniable "her" than she'd ever felt before, and there was only one way to go from there. As her fingers sank back between her own legs she ate Fang out vigorously, eager and fast and loud, moaning as every quick breath sucked in more of her essence, making her head buzz and her need grow.

There was nothing rough in how they moved, Fang sitting on Vanille's face with measured control as she moved back and forth against the tongue lapping at her slit, but it was still all so new to them. They didn't admit it, but sex had become rather routine, all a big part of the slump, the same positions and processions every time. But this was spontaneous, a little wild and reckless, a position they'd almost never indulged in before but which neither of them showed any nerves about jumping right into without any foreplay. It seemed just what they needed to finally escape their respective ruts.

Vanille's free hand grabbed at her lover's rear, fingers digging into the firm, toned cheek and trying to pull her harder down as she sucked on her labia, a little noisy amid all her feverish moans. With Fang bucking atop her, grinding against her tongue in steady time, the smell of her folds was even more intense and arousing than she had ever seemed to realize or think about, lighting something deep inside of her that she knew she would never be able to forget. She fingered herself madly, hips lifting quickly off the bed in a shameless display of lust, her fingerfucking fueling the moans she loosed into Fang's inner thigh.

Vulgar words spilled free form Fang's lips as she held desperately onto her hair, pitching forward and grabbing the headboard with her other hand, weight shifting a little as she indulged in the clear desire to press down harder, still not wanting to hurt Vanille or get rough with her, but certainly leaving gentleness behind the two of them. Where usually they were soft, the receiving partner passively writhing, she was riding Vanille's tongue vigorously, and knew they'd opened the floodgates, that they would have to seriously re-evaluate their sexual habits once the haze had cleared, but given how reinvigorating this was, how new and exciting a simple change of position could seem, Fang believed it for the best. There were many things she was okay with complacency in regards to, but perhaps their sex lives ought not be one of them.

Fang couldn't hang on much longer with the way her girlfriend's tongue worked her over, greedily lapping up every drop of her quim, pressing her tongue at her clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Which was fortunate, because even if she hadn't been masturbating before Fang walked in, the speed with which the redhead humped the air and her pumping hand was certainly not that of someone trying to make the moment last. In fact, it seemed a testament to her skills that she hadn't already lost it, that she managed to drag Fang down with her quickly enough that the warrior was clutching at the headboard and riding her face with the same frantic desperation. What started out as a shameful little bout of self-love was on its way to a simultaneous end for the girlfriends.

They weren't sure after the dust settled who came first, because the other was certainly on their heels and following suit. Their moans filled the room, their lurid symphony of cries and words spilling out through the open window, but they were too gone to notice, let alone care. They writhed and spasmed, reaching their unanimous peaks with hands grabbing at flesh to hold and squeeze onto as their bodies lit up in pleasure, Fang arched way back with her thighs tight around Vanille's head, while Vanille kicked wildly about as her fingers squirmed inside of her, down to the last knuckle, whining and howling into her lover's groin.

In contrast to the frantic sex, their afterglow was calm; there was a lot to soak in, after all. Fang sat against the headboard, Vanille's head resting on her leg as she stroked her hair, neither of them saying much even after they'd gathered their breath. They had to find the words; Vanille to explain the sari and her new fascination with Fang's scent in a way that wasn't really weird, and Fang to express her appreciation of whatever Vanille had gotten into in a way that didn't sound too mocking or sarcastic.

"So, you're into that now?" was the best she could do. It wasn't her proudest moment.

Nodding slowly, Vanille tried to curb the reddening of her cheeks with a smile. "Yeah, I guess I am. That's not weird is it?"

"It might be, but if we can do this more often I won't think so." She leaned forward and planted a little kiss to Vanille's hair and pondered how much of a mood killer it would be to point out that Vanille still had to go do the laundry.


End file.
